


walk with me

by AriMarris



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Funerals, Gen, Mourning, Was originally going to be 'eventually Han/Luke' but im not going to finish this, just sad tbh read this if you wanna be sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriMarris/pseuds/AriMarris
Summary: Luke never knew his sister. He does not know how to feel surrounded by strangers who knew his sister while he never even had the opportunity to meet her. His pain is different from theirs, a throbbing emptiness where memories of her should have been. Luke never believed he could mourn someone he did not know so painfully and yet here he stands, listening to strangers share their stories. It’s grasping at straws and it’s doesn’t help.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Han Solo
Kudos: 4





	walk with me

The morning she is buried, the sun sits high in a cloudless sky. The crispness of dawn has not yet lost itself to the stuffiness of the afternoon, and the birds chirp in the surrounding trees, unaffected by the small party donned in dark clothes that move through the part. The world around them is bright and beautiful but those gathered to send the woman off were sober, pained, and grieving. 

Luke never knew his sister. He does not know how to feel surrounded by strangers who knew his sister while he never even had the opportunity to meet her. His pain is different from theirs, a throbbing emptiness where memories of her should have been. Luke never believed he could mourn someone he did not know so painfully and yet here he stands, listening to strangers share their stories. It’s grasping at straws and it’s doesn’t help. 

Luke does not care about how many lives she touched, how much she loved, or her accomplishments. He wants to know what her favourite color was, how she reacted to the first snowfall, if she stomped in puddles when it rained, if she found just as much wonder and magic in the stars as he did. He wants to know how many hearts she left broken, how many times she had her heartbroken in turn. He wants to know  _ her _ , with every ounce of his being, and he’ll never have the chance. 

After the service, the crowd dissolves slowly, each bidding their farewell to the grieving family that stands to the side of a carved marble stone. It stands much like he imagines she did in life, tall and bold and young, not yet having faced the weathering of time. 

Luke waits for the last of them to trickle away but hesitates on approaching the family. Instead he watches the small group, only three people, crowd around the tombstone for their own moment of silence. They are just as much strangers to him as the rest of them, but they knew her far more personally than the others. He tries not to be jealous, but even he cannot avoid the trickle of envy. 

The two older people, who Luke can only assume to be Leia’s adoptive parents, are the first to depart. The woman hugs the last man standing at the stone, pressing a kiss against his cheek, and the elder man sees him off with a handshake. 

They cast him brief glance as they make their way from the cemetery but otherwise pay him no heed. Left alone with only the man, Luke lets his feet carry him towards the grave. The man does not look up as he approaches. 

“Daddy?” Luke stops short at the young voice coming from the man’s arms. It’s a child’s voice, most likely no more than a toddler. His voice is hushed, almost a whisper, as if he's unsure about what he wants to ask. “When is mommy waking up?”

Luke watches as the man turns his eyes away from the tombstone to the young boy, seemingly lost for an answer. It's not uncommon for parents to struggle explaining the concept of death to their children, and judging by the pain in his eyes, the man has barely processed Leia’s death himself. 

“She’s... she’s not, She’s not coming back,” Luke hears the man say softly. The result is only to be expected. The child’s eye immediately begin to water. He seems to be trying to hold it together and failing when he sniffles a few moments later,

“Does mommy not love me anymore?” 

“Of she does, Ben,” the man says, seemingly slightly panicked by child’s conclusion. He takes a moment to shift Ben into a more comfortable position in his arms. “Mommy loved you, lots and lots. She still loves you she just...” 

He’s at a loss for words. It’s common. Parents who are grieving often have a hard time explaining what’s happening to their children. They soften the blow, making it sound as if the parent had gone away, as if they could one day return to the child’s side. Luke steps forward intently. 

“There was a very bad accident,” Luke finds himself saying softly, and two sets of eyes turn to him. He only has eyes for his nephew, who is clutching frightfully at his father’s clothes at the addition of this stranger. Luke crouches, lowering himself to meet Ben’s eyes, to not speak down to him. “And because of this, her body stopped working. She can’t come back but she definitely loves you.” 

Luke has had plenty experience with children Ben’s age and Ben accepts it about as well as any of the others. Which is to say, some form of comprehension but not complete understanding. But that comes with time. 

Ben sniffles and rubs his eyes, “Who’s gonna give me my bath now?” 

“I think your dad can take care of that,” Luke says, his eyes flickering to Ben’s father. The man is staring at him with an odd expression and Luke wonders if perhaps he overstepped his boundaries. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Luke Skywalker,” Luke says instead of dwelling on it. He straightens up, offering a hand which the man takes after a moment of hesitation. “I’m Leia’s...”

“Leia’s brother,” the man breathes in realization, before seeming to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in. He released Luke’s hand just as quickly as he had taken it. “Sorry. Kenobi told us you might be coming, I just... I’m Han Solo, and this is Ben. Ben, this is Luke Skywalker. He’s your mom’s brother. Your uncle.” 

Ben peers up at the stranger. He looks torn between excitement and nervousness but is too shy to act on either one. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Luke says, unsure what else to say at this point. “She seems like she was a remarkable woman. I only wish,” Luke pauses, drawing in a shuddering breath, “I had been able to know her.”

Han is quiet for a long while, his eyes eyes glued to Luke’s face. Luke wonders if Han sees Leia in him, in the curve of his lips and the furrow of his brow. If the shape of his eyes and the waves of his hair betray his relation to the sister he never knew. 

Finally, Han speaks again,

“Yeah,” he murmurs and Luke swears he could hear the quiver in his voice. Then he’s forcing a smile, pretending as though seeing Leia in a stranger doesn’t hurt him, “I think... I think she’d be happy you showed up today. It would mean a lot to her. I mean - it means a lot to us.” 

Luke wants to tell him he doesn’t have to pretend but he never finds the words.    



End file.
